


Home Time

by FunkyinFishnet



Series: Violet Nights [16]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Fame, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Loss, Public Relations, Threats, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 15:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1823788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elladan and Elrohir are used to strange behaviour from people thanks to a life spent in the public eye. But working at Violet Nights brings on attacks and brings up issues that they aren’t expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Time

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings - vague allusion to an attack suffered by a woman, subsequent self-abuse and suicide.

 

 

The first of the calls came when Bilbo was outside the café and out of earshot, talking to Oin. Elladan grabbed the receiver with one hand, the other reached for more walnuts to chop up. Bilbo had been right – walnuts were a great topping for coffee frosting. A chocolate button bounced off Elladan's cheek, launched from Elrohir's hand. Elrohir raised his eyebrows, his eyes bright with mischief and amusement. Elrohir had always been the bratty twin, a charge he constantly denied despite much evidence to the contrary.

 

Elladan threw a couple of whole walnuts back, finally speaking into the phone. “Violet Nights, how may we help?”

 

There was an odd sort of pause, as though someone was smiling, then “We're the ones that can help you.”

 

The voice was deep, slightly older maybe. Something about the tone, the smugness maybe, made Elladan tense, which immediately alerted his brother. Elrohir got to his feet, all mischief gone from his expression, replaced by a question. Should he get Bilbo? Elladan shook his head, the caller hadn't asked for Violet Nights' proprietor, so was it Elladan or Elrohir that they wanted?

 

“How?” answered Elladan evenly, mimicking how his father sounded when talking to particularly sneery journalists.

 

The laugh was too amused. “You'd like to make your father proud.”

 

Before Elladan could reply, the caller hung up. Elrohir frowned, clearly desperate for information. “Well?”

 

Elladan's frown was identical. “He said he could help me, that I wanted to make Father proud.”

 

Elrohir seemed to be waiting for more. “Everybody knows that.”

 

True. Elladan sighed and put the phone down before turning back to his chopping board. Bilbo was still outside, still relaxed as he talked to Oin, gesturing in some way. Oin was hooting with laughter, his wide cheery expression dimming dramatically when he caught sight of Elladan. Elladan wasn't surprised.

 

He shook his head, keeping his voice quietly, his body language relaxed, in case Bilbo glanced back at them. They had experienced strange phone calls before, at home. Their father's restaurant was renowned throughout the city; it had even been featured on national television and in newspapers and magazines. Any kind of media profile meant odd, sometimes intense reactions. This had felt different though, deeper, and he couldn't really say why.

 

Elrohir studied his brother's expression for a moment, realising that an answer wasn't forthcoming. He didn't complain though, or dismiss Elladan's concerns. Thanks to a life in the limelight they'd learned how unnerving and inexplicable some people's behaviour could be and how it could sometimes be even worse. Elladan thought briefly of a particular summer, not so long ago.

 

Still, the call was hardly something to burden Bilbo with, it'd been apparently intended for the twins anyway, and Bilbo had enough to worry about already. Elrohir picked up a bowl of coffee frosting and began icing some waiting sponge cakes while Elladan focused on his chopping board. They worked in tandem, their thoughts and actions synchronised. They knew how to handle this kind of call, they'd been in similar situations before.

 

*

 

The large Durin, Dwalin, was staring at them again. Elrohir was tempted to start throwing his knife from hand to hand, to demonstrate the vast and varied education that he and his brother had received. But Bilbo liked as much peace as possible in his café and Elrohir liked Bilbo even more than he liked annoying the Durins. So instead he maintained a blank expression, holding Dwalin's gaze easily until someone called Dwalin's attention away.

 

Elladan nudged him but there was a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. “Father wants us to be polite.”

 

“That was polite.”

 

“Hmm, for you.”

 

Their father rarely actually said anything negative about the Durins – he had admired Gretchen, Thorin's grandmother. He told very interesting stories about her, apparently Thorin had her drive and unbending character. Still, there was always something in the way their father _told_ such stories and in the expression he wore whenever he heard news and rumours about the Durins. After working at Violet Nights, Elrohir understood those expressions and the spaces that his father often left between words.

 

The Durins were...the Durins were prickly and difficult, often intentionally. Most of them snorted derisively whenever they saw Elrohir and Elladan baking. It wasn't just because the twins weren't Bilbo.

 

Elrohir poured a cup of coffee for the harried-looking woman in front of him whose fingernails were painted deep purple. He smiled comfortingly at her, she seemed to relax a fraction and then dropped a chunk of change into the tip jar. The twins weren't Bilbo, but they had their own gifts which he was grateful for, even if the Durins weren't.

 

Elladan was talking to Ori, who was definitely the friendliest of the group though he'd looked appalled when Elrohir had told him that he, Elladan and most of their family were vegetarians. Apparently that was what it took to shock a Durin.

 

The phone rang and Elrohir answered it smoothly. “Violet Nights.”

 

“We can help you make your father proud, you know. We can eliminate that wrinkle.”

 

Elrohir frowned minutely, this had to be the voice that had unnerved Elladan. A voice with eyes that had been watching their family apparently - their father's brow did wrinkle when his concerns were particularly strong.

 

Elrohir's brow was wrinkling now and Elladan was beside him, brushing against his elbow, a question clear in his expression – _again?_

 

Elrohir lifted his chin slightly – _yes, worse._

 

The voice was smiling again. “The _character_ of your regulars, it's such a concern. And if you just applied more time to the family business, well...”

 

Elrohir swore, the words sharp. He might have used the highly-localised language that his grandparents had always preferred over English, but the tone made the contents obvious. The voice chuckled.

 

“You know how judgemental the press can be.”

 

Then there was a dial-tone; the voice had hung up. Elrohir looked at the phone for a moment before shoving it vehemently back onto its cradle. Elladan poured him a strong cup of tea, barely sugared. That conversation had been a threat, a very clever one because terms hadn't been outlined, it had all been suggestion. Elrohir knew that his father had received far worse before, both many years ago and more recently. Not everybody liked a success story.

 

Elladan turned slightly so that he was facing Elrohir, their conversation blocked off from the rest of the café. “A threat?”

 

Elrohir's smile was tight at the edges. “We should spend more time with the family business. The press can be judgemental.”

 

Elladan's smile matched Elrohir's. Bilbo had warned them when he'd offered them the job that some powerful people had a problem with the Durins and with anyone connected to them, peripherally or otherwise. It explained the Durin demeanour, it explained a lot.

 

Elrohir and Elladan had taken the job anyway because they liked Violet Nights, its welcoming atmosphere, and the quiet but strong message it transmitted via its mere existence. Their father liked Bilbo too, he'd partnered Rivendell with Violet Nights. Their father actually _liked_ very few people.

 

And it wasn't as though they hadn't faced that kind of trouble before. Working at Violet Nights was tailor-made for them.

 

That was two threats now. Elrohir and Elladan would discuss it all later when they weren't in public, they'd discuss it with their father too.

 

*

 

Their father's brow was distinctly wrinkled as he listened to his sons. He didn't dismiss their concerns out of hand, he'd lived a lot of his life in the public eye too; he knew how strange the behaviour of the public could be. He also knew about the people that circled Violet Nights and the Durins. He'd organised his own investigations.

 

Their background and family life was why Elladan and Elrohir had believed Bilbo when he'd told them about the problems they'd face working in Violet Nights. It had been several years, but thinking about the death of their mother still hurt a lot. It had been a long decline really, until she'd decided that she'd had enough. Her husband, the twins' father, was the one who'd found her body.

 

They had their own theories as to what had caused her decline in the first place. But that was business for no one but family.

 

Now, it seemed that Violet Nights might become another business altogether.

 

“No one has followed you?”

 

“No one,” Elrohir was definite.

 

Elladan was not. “No one that we've seen.”

 

Their father accepted the qualification and continued. “Nothing strange has happened in the café?”

 

The twins shook their heads, the Durins often behaved oddly but that was their normal and the twins knew what sort of behaviour to look for. It was the people who weren't overt that you had to be the most wary of and the twins definitely would have noticed that. They remembered it from before all too well.

 

Their father's jaw was tense, but he wasn't surprised. He conversed regularly with Belladonna Baggins. His finger tapped against the table for some time, his silence considerate and holding. Elladan and Elrohir were still learning to reach his level of patience but they were getting there.

 

*

 

They continued their lives as normal. They were both studying; Elladan was learning business studies at a local college while Elrohir was studying desserts both at Rivendell and Violet Nights. They'd both end up running the family business, in different ways. Their sister might become part of it too, once she was older.

 

They spent time at Rivendell, taking shifts in the kitchen and waiting tables. Their father wanted them to know every aspect of the business,so that they'd know when people were trying to deceive or take advantage of them. Both Elladan and Elrohir enjoyed doing front of house duty; they liked talking to people and hearing their stories. It was the same at Violet Nights, only without the dress code and the need to constantly uphold the family name. Violet Nights gave them the chance to properly relax.

 

They both regularly went to the gym and spent time sparring, both with and without weapons. Their father liked them to be prepared and there was a tradition in their family of learning such things. The twins could still remember their paternal grandparents' astonishing demonstrations. They liked being part of that tradition, and they liked its other applications too.

 

*

 

Bilbo wasn't surprised by how easily they worked together, though he did raise an eyebrow whenever they did anything that he thought was particularly athletic, like when Elrohir spun out of the way of Elladan and neatly jumped over a chair, not disturbing anything or anyone in the process.

 

“I should advertise that kind of performance at the circus,” Bilbo told them with amusement and clear warm admiration. “Might get us a few more customers come the summer.”

 

Elrohir bowed. “You're too kind.”

 

Elladan rolled his eyes and threw a book at his brother which Elrohir caught smoothly and threw right back. Bilbo shook his head but he was smiling.

 

“I'd say you'll be paying for any breakages, but you never break anything, do you?” He sliced another strawberry to add to a Victoria sponge. “And don't think I haven't noticed that you're not like this around Thorin.”

 

Elladan raised an impressive eyebrow, but didn't deny Bildo’s words. Bilbo was always very astute and he didn’t look angry now, more amused and interested. Elrohir threw the book onto a nearby table, nothing else on the table wobbled even slightly. He gave a little half bow and then made his way over to the counter to begin working on an oatmeal and chocolate biscuit recipe. Elladan knew that his brother was hoping to one day learn how to make the fruit rolls that their father liked so much.

 

Bilbo didn’t push the point, but he gave them a look that said he knew there was something they weren’t telling him. It was safer that way.

 

*

 

On their way home one night, their preparation paid off. They were singing a song as they walked, something they’d often done together since they were children. Dark shapes began moving close by. The twins' feet didn’t falter, Elladan pressed curled fingers to his waist to signal that he’d seen them, Elrohir mirrored him.

 

The shapes became sudden movements and the twins moved smoothly out of the way, more than able to fend off attackers. Elrohir saw a flash of metal and then a blade grazed his arm. Hands tried to pin him against a nearby wall and someone fumbled with his sleeve, drawing it up as the blade came close again. He lashed out with his feet, knocking the blade away before wrestling himself free.

 

Elladan seemed to be faring well. There were more people out there than they’d originally realised, it looked like a flood in the darkness, but when Elrohir landed a punch, he saw too much familiarity. The man he was facing grinned triumphantly and shoved a sudden hard palm forward, striking Elrohir’s throat. When Elrohir, wheezing and dazed, managed to look up again, the man was gone. They all were, leaving Elladan and Elrohir with no one to report to the police.

 

Elladan reached his side quickly. “Okay?”

 

“I’m breathing,” Elrohir took another deep breath before speaking, hating how shaken he felt. “They wanted to mark my arm.”

 

Elladan froze and looked at him closely. He didn’t question the conclusion that Elrohir had reached, though he did sense there was more to come. “And?”

 

“And it looked like him.”

 

It was Elladan’s turn to swear in their grandparents’ language. Elrohir agreed with every word. It was no coincidence that they’d been set upon not far from Violet Nights after they’d finished their shift there, neither was it a coincidence that someone had tried to mark Elrohir’s arms.

 

It definitely wasn’t a coincidence that _he_ had been there, or at least someone who had looked like him...

 

Elladan looked calm again, except for how incessantly one of his feet was tapping. Elrohir looked down at his own limbs, nothing was shaking but he felt angry enough to spit.

 

They’d have to tell their father about this, about how someone had tried to give them marks like the ones their mother had bore during her final year and about how someone no-doubt-purposefully resembling a description that she'd once given to the authorities had been there too.

 

It would make their father do more than wrinkle his brow. No charges had stuck, but their mother had been sure, back when her mind had been close to clear. Elladan and Elrohir had believed her then and they still believed her now. They both walked on.

 

*

 

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up when he saw the bruising on Elladan’s cheek the next day. “Rough night?”

 

Elladan’s expression didn’t flicker. “An _interesting_ one.”

 

Elrohir was frowning, trying to make a raspberry coulée properly. His efforts caught Bilbo’s attention. Good. But one of the Durins, Bofur, was looking at Elladan a little too closely. Elladan stared back, his expression blank and unforgiving, a default perhaps but it was how his family always initially dealt with outsiders because it was better to be safe than sorry.

 

Bofur didn’t blink, but Elladan didn’t reveal anything either. This was a family matter, though the attack had only happened once they were employed by Bilbo and it was so sudden, so _personal_ , it matched the stories that Bilbo had told about those that were determined to make the Durins and those that knew them suffer. Elladan looked forward to presenting those people to the proper authorities, he looked forward to returning a few knocks too even if his father preferred a quiet much less aggressive approach.

 

It was theirs to deal with though, their father had said so. As he had pointed out, they’d be doing Bilbo a huge favour.

 

Elladan smiled. Bofur suddenly looked very unnerved.

 

_-the end_


End file.
